Carded
by Medusa -the writer
Summary: Sam seems to easily pass himself off with fake ID's most of the time, what happens when he's honest? - Written in answer to a challenge by Amy


Carded

By Medusa

Feedback always welcome - but not demanded.

Timeline: Early season one

Disclaimer : I don't own anything to do with Supernatural.

Summary: Sam seems to easily pass himself off with fake ID's most of the time, what happens when he's honest?

Author's Notes: A little challenge here, a little challenge there. This is for Amy, a little bit of fun. This was written in one afternoon and is unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

Sam fiddled nervously with the dark tie and stiff shirt collar. He was sure his cover was going to be blown even before he got past first base. The elevator doors slid open to reveal the quiet corridor on the third floor of the small hospital. With a quick look to his right and left, he strode with feigned confidence up to the nurse's station just a few feet ahead of him.

"Can I help you?" the matronly woman in scrubs asked him.

Great, thought Sam, if he'd lucked out with a hot young nurse he might have been able to blind them with his charm but there was no way he was going to fool the experienced woman in front of him. He was a goner.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am." Wincing internally he hoped that he hadn't sounded as juvenile to the nurse as it had to him. Dean was going to be pissed if he messed this up.

"I'm Doctor Hunnicut. I believe you have a patient here, a Mr. Stevenson? Doctor Michaels called my office to consult on this case."

The nurse, whose name tag read "Barbara West, RN" gave him a quick once over before answering, "Yes, doctor. Let me just get his chart."

She turned to search the rack behind the desk, found the appropriate chart and flipped it open to check it and handed it to Sam so he could read the notes inside. Sam gave her a quick smile that he hoped conveyed just the right mix of authority, gratitude and friendliness before becoming intent on the contents of the file.

They'd lucked out when they'd found out that the latest victim in their current case was still alive, offering the boys a chance to hopefully gather enough information to identify what was attacking travelers on the nearby Interstate. Four victims in the last three months, the previous three had died within 5 days of the attack.

A reconnaissance by Dean had included "interrogating" one of the nurses that he'd managed to "bump into" at the local bar had netted them information that included the fact that they had spoken to a Dr. Hunnicut from the CDC in Atlanta because the case had them all baffled as to why the patient was as sick as he was, for no apparent reason, and not responding to treatment of any kind.

Sam had protested strongly when he'd been informed by his big brother that he would have to pose as the doctor from the CDC. Sam was 22 years old. Passing himself of as being old enough to be a doctor, let alone a CDC specialist, was a major stretch as far as Sam was concerned. Something his brother would be far better equipped to pull off, being four years older. Dean had simply told Sam he had to pull his own weight and this part was down to him as he'd done all the leg work so far. Leg work was one name for it, Sam had thought. The cute nurse that Dean had pumped for information had certainly had legs, very long legs if he knew his brother at all. Besides, Dean had said, they couldn't risk Dean running into the same nurse at the hospital or the gig would be up before it had even begun.

All of which had not boosted Sam's confidence in pulling this off in the least.

"Would you like to see the patient, doctor?" The question brought Sam to the here and now, engrossed as he was in trying to decipher the notes in the chart.

"Uh, yeah, thanks." He gestured for the nurse to lead the way, hoping that they wouldn't run into a real doctor on the way.

Dean was waiting with the Impala in the corner of the parking lot. Sam slid into the passenger seat and blew out a relieved breath, pulling the restrictive tie off and undoing the top two buttons on the tight collar.

"How'd it go?" his big brother asked.

"Okay, I think. No one called the cops."

"I had absolute faith you could do this, Sammy. But that's not what I meant. What about this guy Stevenson? He tell you anything useful?"

Sam shook his head. "It's a bust, Dean. He doesn't fit. This whole case was a shot in the dark from the start. Now can we go back to looking for dad?"

Dean frowned at his brother. "You sure?"

Sighing, Sam huffed out, "Yeah, I'm sure. I wouldn't blow a job off if there really was something to look into, Dean. Give me a little credit."

"All right, princess, keep your hair on. I was just askin'." Dean checked traffic as they pulled out on to the road and headed back to their motel. In an effort to get things back on an even keel he offered the Dean Winchester version of an olive branch. "Wanna stop and pick up some brewskies, maybe a pizza. We can watch some old movies on TV, kick back before we hit the road tomorrow. Huh?"

Sam smiled, dimples showing. "Yeah, sure. Sounds great."

They drove without talking, listening to The Who on the tape deck, until they had almost reached the motel. Dean pulled up outside the liquor shop which was a half a block away from the motel.

"How 'bout you go in and grab the beer while I head back to the motel and order the pizza?"

" 'K. See you in a few." Sam responded, climbing out of the car and heading towards the store. He paused as he heard his brother roar off, smiling a little to himself.

The tiny old-fashioned bell on the door tinkled as Sam opened the door. He took a moment to look around the store and locate the refrigerated section with all the different kinds of beer and wine were chilling. His quick scan of the layout was also part of his hunter's instinct to check out what he was walking into.

Sam scanned the labels in the cooler and finally decided on Dean's favorite brand. He grabbed a six pack and made his way to the counter, fishing his wallet out of his pocket as he went.

"Hey," he greeted the girl behind the counter.

Her name tag read "Amu".

She looked down at the six pack on the counter and then up at Sam.

"Didn't know it was prom season." She remarked dryly, making no move to ring anything up on the register.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked.

Amu waved a hand at the suit that Sam still wore. "If you aren't dressed for the prom, you musta stole that outta your daddy's wardrobe, but it ain't gonna work, buster."

Confusion flooded through Sam. He knew he didn't feel comfortable in the suit and that the off-the-rack garments he was wearing weren't an exact fit, but he didn't think it looked that bad.

"Uh, look, Amu..."

"It's Amy, kid, and I don't wanna hear whatever lie you're about to tell me. I've worked here too long."

Sam squinted at the name badge again. He pointed. "It doesn't say 'Amy'.

"I know. When they made the name badge they spelled it wrong. Damn manager wouldn't shell out for a new one."

"Huh. Well, Amy, Do you think you can just ring up the beer for me, please?"

"Got any ID?" Amy crossed her arms, leaning back a little to look up into Sam's face.

"ID?" Sam repeated, dumbly.

"Yeah. ID. You know, something that tells me you're over 21? And nothing fake, 'cos I gotta tell you I can pick 'em a mile off."

Sam considered all the ID's he had in his wallet, plus the CDC badge still tucked into his inside jacket pocket. He instantly dismissed that one since he knew he'd never convince her with that. Finally he decided that honesty was the best policy and he fished his college ID out and handed it over.

Amy studied the card for a few moments, turning it over and over as she inspected it for flaws.

"This one's pretty good." She said handing it back.

"It should be, it's real." Sam grumbled back indignantly.

"Yeah, like you go to Stanford. Go on, kid, get outta here before I call the cops." Amy picked up the six pack and held it out of Sam's reach, head cocked, pointing the way to the door.

"What!?" Sam exclaimed. "Come on. I really am twenty two. And I do, did, go to Stanford."

Sam closed the door of the motel room behind himself and stopped, fidgeting a little.

" 'Bout time you got back," Dean said coming out from the bathroom. He stopped and stared at Sam's empty hands. "Where's the beer?"

End


End file.
